


an ode to morpheus

by trickstered



Series: Soapstuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adultery, Gaslighting, M/M, Mind Manipulation, POV Multiple, Ultimate Self Dirk Strider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstered/pseuds/trickstered
Summary: You simply don’t walk out of a happy marriage; that’s not how soap operas work. That’s not how Dirk Strider works, either.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dirk Strider/Karkat Vantas
Series: Soapstuck [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568794
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	an ode to morpheus

**Author's Note:**

> **Please read the warnings**! This is gaslighty as all fuck, and mostly out of order with the rest of this au. 
> 
> Perhaps also a mild spoiler if I ever give it a cohesive story.

“So this is it, is it?”

You feel all at once the ice cold fear of being seen; of being caught. Dirk is an imposing figure in the doorway, one shoulder leant into the frame, arms folded across his chest. Although he’s too far away to see it, you feel the urge to hide your phone. Hide the evidence. You swallow. You decide to square your shoulders and brace yourself for the end. “I didn’t realise you were awake.”

“I heard you packing,” he says, voice flat.

“Dave’s on his way,” you say, quickly. It’s better to just get it over with.

Dirk watches you carefully, silent for as long as it takes you to breathe. And then he moves. “I suppose he is,” he says, closing in on you. He seems bigger; he seems more. You’re not fucking scared of him. “What was the breaking point, exactly? I’m a little disappointed. I barely even scratched the surface.”

You take a step back. What else could there be left to do, you wonder. Hasn’t he made you feel like shit enough? Have you not paid for your crimes with fucking interest now? “I’m tired of walking on fucking eggshells. You blocked his number! You won’t let me see my friends! Where else should I fucking start?” 

He nods, as though in understanding. It feels good to say it; to unload the months of carefully repressed frustrations. Even if they are only true on technicalities. Kanaya was here two days ago, remember. Dirk was such an excellent host. She had brought flowers, and cake and — you have run out of places to step back into. He reaches for your face and you flinch. His touch is gentle, thumb brushing over the sharp point of your cheek. “You’re tired, baby. It’s the middle of the night.”

You grit your teeth. “Stop it.”

He sighs. “You’re tired, Karkat. Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“There’s nothing to sleep on, I’m leaving.” You say leaving like it’s holy scripture; like Dave is made of light, and will burn the dark, ugly bad out of you.

Dirk shakes his head. He smiles. He opens his mouth, and —

We decide to stop being you anymore, except to direct your consciousness towards the right outcome. Dirk is speaking, yes. These words don’t necessarily make sense. They wouldn’t make much sense “like this, either.” Format is always experimental, sweetheart. It’s about style. You should know that about us — about me. Shouldn’t you? What’s that — I’ve lost my mind? Don’t make me fucking laugh. 

Where were we? Oh right: you’re tired, Karkat. It’s so late. The adrenaline is wearing off, isn’t it? You want to sleep. You want some rest before Dave gets here to whisk you off into happy ever after. You don’t understand what’s happening, and that’s okay. You don’t have to understand, yet. Dirk’s hand is so warm on your cheek, and when you yawn, he smiles that smile you used to love so much. When you begin to nod off, you fall forward into his arms. He picks you up, and you rest your head on his shoulder. You used to love this, didn’t you? You used to love him. He used to love you. You think about that as you nod off. There’s no use thinking of anything else. 

It’s so easy to drift off, Karkat. The easiest thing in the world.

Dave gets in his car, sure. He’s all fired up, such a heroic little Judas on his way to steal you away. He drives like a man possessed, cutting through red lights, bypassing the speed limit like he’s anything but a safety net. At the tail end, he goes through one red light too many. It’s fucking tragic, really, the way he doesn’t see the truck coming for his flank.

Don’t worry. You can sleep soundly, honey. He doesn’t feel a thing. That’s the magic of the genre; we fade to black, end scene, to be continued next week. There’s no way I would let my own brother die, of course. This, like all things, serves a purpose. There, there. That’s right, Karkat. Sleep. You don’t have to understand anything right now, darling. All you have to do is sleep, and I’ll make everything right.


End file.
